


Radio Waves and Erlenmeyer Flasks (2.0)

by the_Dark_Weird_Way7



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Emotional Hurt, I'm Sorry, M/M, POV Third Person, The University of What It Is, chapter one is about baby carlos, dr. kayali is carlos's foster mother, i promise things get better in the second chapter, long fic, neglectful parent
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-14
Updated: 2018-02-20
Packaged: 2018-12-29 18:40:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12091047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_Dark_Weird_Way7/pseuds/the_Dark_Weird_Way7
Summary: Rumors are not scientific, so scientists should not be concerned with them. So why has the legend of the elusive, mysterious desert town always fascinated Carlos? And what exactly will he find if those stories are true?





	1. Rumors

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Radio Waves and Erlenmeyer Flasks](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2112594) by [the_Dark_Weird_Way7](https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_Dark_Weird_Way7/pseuds/the_Dark_Weird_Way7). 

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rumors are not scientific, so scientists should not be concerned with them. So why has the legend of the elusive, mysterious desert town always fascinated Carlos? And what exactly will he find if those stories are true?

It wasn't until Carlos was eleven that the legend of Night Vale first entered his life.

Timmy Thompson had brought a copy of Dr. Simone Chester's new essay _Night Vale: A Society Without Logic_ to class and was showing it off to everyone in the lab while Professor Mars went to fetch supplies down the hall. Dr. Chester was considered a celebrity in the scientific community, and anytime she released a new report, her findings were groundbreaking, to say the least, so this was a really big deal.

"Where did you get that, Thompson?" one student asked, their eyes as wide as tennis balls.

"My aunt's a publisher for _Science Now_ ," he boasted. "She knows things before anyone else! She left this on the coffee table last night when she came over for dinner. Didn't even realize who it was written by!"

"Well hurry up and read it!" another student urged. "What's it say?"

Timmy cleared his throat and pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "Somewhere on Earth, somewhere in a desert," Timmy read dramatically, "there is a small community known as Night Vale. In this town, everything modern science teaches us to be correct is flipped on its head."

The class gasped in unified horror.

"Up is down. Left is Right. Yes means no. Logic does not exist. Nonsense is the only sense. And the unexplained is as commonplace as mail boxes and garbage trucks..."

Carlos sat in awe, listening to Timmy tell of a town where monsters lurked around every corner, death was just another mundane occurrence, and eldritch abominations ran a strict, authoritarian government that would make George Orwell pee his pants. Could such a place actually exist? If so, how had Dr. Chester learned of it? Could NASA find it with a satellite? Did the US government know about it? Why was science different in this one town? Carlos had so many questions, he barely noticed Professor Mars had come back.

"Children!" the professor shouted. "Children! What is going on here?" And immediately, the hive of chattering young scientists broke apart and everyone ran back to their seats.

Only Timmy had the courage to pipe up and say, "It's Dr. Chester's new essay, sir! We were just reading his latest paper." He held the folder up as proof.

For a moment, Professor Mars's eyes widened and a look of excitement crossed his face. Then, his professionalism got the better of him, and he frowned. "Well you can finish reading it after class. Until then, everyone open your textbooks to page 479 and get started on experiments A through F. You have four hours. Mr. Jacobs? Can you please deliver these boxes to each table?"

After four hours of mixing chemicals, writing the results, and poking at animal organs to see what they would do, and writing down the results, class was dismissed for lunch, and Carlos couldn't get to the playground fast enough.

"Keep reading, Timmy!" everyone urged. "What else did Dr. Chester say?"

Some of the older kids, at the mention of Simone Chester's name, gravitated toward the group.

Timmy Thompson, stood proudly atop the monkey bars overlooking his audience, reading from the report in a loud, clear voice. Free period eventually ended, as free periods tend to do, but the teachers weren't shooing their pupils back into the academy as they usually did. They, too, had become enraptured with hearing Dr. Chester's findings from the town of Night Vale. 

When Timmy finally finished, the teachers fought each other over who would get to "confiscate" the folder, some bribing him with passing grades, others with early college admissions help. The biology professor and the head of the geology department were on the brink of a fist fight when Headmaster Hodgins stepped in. It took a lengthy scolding of the staff, a compromise to make _everyone_ an individual copy of the report, and a promise to call Timmy's parents to discuss why it's wrong to take things that don't belong to you for things to calm down. Everyone went back to class and finished out the day, but not without a lot of excited chatter.

School eventually ended for the day, and Carlos couldn't wait to tell Dr. Kayali all about what had happened.

Now, usually after school, Carlos would hang out in the university library or use one of the college's many pristine, well-stocked laboratories. Since his foster mother was the head of the University of What It Is, he had free reign of the campus, so long as the trouble he caused was minimal and he cleaned up behind himself, and since he didn't have any friends to keep him busy anyway, he preferred to use these special privileges to get some extra studying done and work on independent projects while Dr. Kayli was up to her elbows in work. But today he needed to talk to someone about what had happened. He wanted to talk to a reputable scientist and have a real scientific discussion about this essay.

If he were being honest, and Carlos was sometimes honest to a devastating degree, he wanted to show off that he knew something big that the grown ups didn't, which is a power children rarely ever get to possess.

He greeted the University security guards as he did everyday and rushed into Dr. Kayali's personal laboratory, where she and three of her colleagues were writing long, complex equations on a chalk board.

"Hello, Carlos!" she greeted without taking her eyes off the board. "I have some food in the fridge if you're hungry. No, Hurst, that irrational number needs to go here! Putting it there throws everything off!"

Carlos pulled the plate of last night's dinner from the corner fridge and eagerly stuffed his face. With all the excitement, he only just realized he'd forgotten to eat at lunch today. "Dr. Kay, guess what!" he exclaimed through a mouthful of broccoli.

"Swallow your food before you talk, Carlos. It's bad manners and a choking hazard to speak with your mouth full of food."

He did as he was told and repeated, "Dr. Kay!"

"Yes, Carlos?"

"You'll never guess what happened at school today!"

"School?" She stopped writing for a moment. "Aren't middle schools closed on Saturdays?"

"Dr. Kay, it's Wednesday."

"Oh. Well never mind then. You wanted to tell me something." She started writing again.

"Yeah! So Timmy Thompson's aunt works for _Science Now_ magazine, right? She's like a publisher or something. Anyway, so like Timmy's aunt came over to Timmy's house last night and she had this really important science report just lying on the coffee table. Which is weird, because it's like, who even leaves other scientists' field reports on a coffee table, much less someone else's coffee table, right? So Timmy found this report and he brought it to school and it was like so small. Like, I didn't think you could write a report as short as this. All the science reports I've ever seen have looked like textbooks! You know, the really big ones that make your backpack really heavy...?"

"Carlos," Dr. Kayali sighed, clearly losing patience. "The point, please. What was the report about?"

"Well you'll never guess who wrote it!"

"I have a million guesses but scientifically speaking, only one of them will be correct."

"Do you know who it is?"

"Tell me."

_"Guess!"_

"Carlos, I'm not playing childish games. Who wrote this special report and what was it about?"

"It was by Dr. Simone Chester!" he squeaked. " _The_ Dr. Simone Chester! How cool is that?!"

"Very cool," Dr. Kayali replied flatly.

"I know right?!" he exclaimed, totally oblivious to her lack of enthusiasm. "And she was writing about this weird town in the desert called Night Gale or something like that?"

"Night _Vale_."

"You know about it already?" Carlos asked, trying not to let his disappointment show.

"Of course."

"So... what do you think?"

"What do you mean?" she asked, still not taking her eyes off the board.

He put the plate on her desk and took a seat in her swivel chair. "What do you think about her findings?"

Dr. Kayali put the chalk down, her equation now complete, and turned around. "Though I do not like to speak ill of my colleagues, I think Dr. Chester is potentially bordering on senile and trying to cash in on an urban legend that's been around for a century. This report she's written has been circulating the rumor mill for months now. She presents no proof of her findings, she focuses less on the science and more on speculation, and in the end, she claims that her memory's been erased so she can't show anyone where this mysterious town is. While I will applaud and respect her many other accomplishments and discoveries, until I see some sort of proof that Night Vale exists, I refuse to believe anything she presents to the scientific community."

Carlos could feel his throat closing up and his vision getting blurry. "Oh," he croaked. "I thought the report was pretty cool?" He hadn't meant to phrase it as a question, but now he couldn't stop himself from questioning everything.

Dr. Kayali's assistants could see Carlos was clearly on the verge of tears. One of the scientists awkwardly shuffled out of the room, mumbling about needing to finish up some things. The second scientist walked over and gave him a reassuring ruffle of the hair, saying, "Aw come on, Dr. Kay, no need to crush the poor kid's spirit just yet!"

The third scientist said nothing and didn't move.

"Koy. Smith. Please allow me some privacy so I can speak with my son alone."

The second scientist, Koy, hesitated and gave Carlos one last reassuring ruffle of the hair, and left with her head down.

The third scientist, Smith, didn't hesitate. They quickly exited the room with only a quick, sympathetic glance at Carlos. The door shut softly behind them.

Dr. Kayali took off her glasses to clean the lenses on her cotton t-shirt. "Carlos, I don't mean to be harsh, but you wanted my honest opinion and I gave it. I am not a fan of sensationalism like that of Dr. Chester's so-called 'findings'. If anyone, especially someone with Chester's fame and notoriety in the scientific community, were to bring something this sloppy into a classroom, they'd be sent home with an F and they'd be remembered as a joke."

Carlos didn't say anything. He stared down at his lap and swiveled the chair slightly. He was glad he'd forgone that last haircut, because the mound of thick, curly black hair managed to keep his tears hidden. Tears were irrational, and not scientific whatsoever. Crying was not scientific. _Scientists don't cry._

"Carlos, this story's no doubt going to gain popularity in the near future. The media's going to hype it up as something bigger than it is, and I want you to reserve judgement. Wait until there's more proof. While all those gullible people are out there looking for impossible towns full of monsters, I want you to focus on _real_ things. I don't want you to get your hopes up and grow up chasing after fantasies. You're a brilliant, young scientist. Don't waste your intelligence on mere rumors. Understand?"

He nodded silently.

"Good. Now, I'm going to get some paperwork done. In the meantime, why don't you go down to the library and get started on your homework?"

Carlos wordlessly slid off the seat, grabbed his backpack, and headed for the office door.

"Do you want anymore food?"

He shook his head. "No thanks. I'm not really hungry anymore." He closed the door behind him and started descending the stairs to one of the university's many labs. The room smelled of chalk and floor polish. The wood boards creaked under his feet as he walked up to the nearest table and pulled out his textbooks.

Carlos chided himself for being so stupid. He should have realized there was no facts, no evidence, no scientific data to back up Chester's report. He couldn't even really call it a report! It was a story. Pure fiction. There was nothing to ground it in actual science.

He might as well have opened up a book of fairy tales and called it a biology textbook!

All those people had fought over who got to hold that stupid folder... They'd all looked at Tim like he was some sort of priest speaking a great truth from a mountain. Stupid. Stupid. It was all so stupid!

Carlos wiped his face with the sleeves of his lab coat. No more crying. Scientists don't cry.

This was good. It was a learning experience. Scientists are always learning new things. This just so happened to be one of the things he learned.

Carlos wasn't sure how long he'd sat there staring at the same page in his book before one of the security guards, a kind middle-aged guy named Matt, walked in and smiled. "There you are, kiddo. Dr. Kayali sent me to get you. Figured you'd be here or in the library. She's ready to go home."

Carlos nodded and grabbed his things. Matt led him down the stairs to the entrance hall of the University of What It Is, where Dr. Kayali stood, reading over some documents and chewing on a pencil. She looked up and took the pencil from her mouth. "Ah, there you are. Thank you as always, Matt."

Matt waved off the thank you. "No problem, doc. You two have a good night."

Carlos waved goodbye and followed Dr. Kayali out the door. Their small cottage was just across campus, and Carlos was always so fascinated with the way the light from the sunset made the house look like it was on fire with the sun's brilliant oranges and reds and pinks and purple. It was a gorgeous reminder that the world he lived in was beautiful and fascinating, and he wanted so badly to understand everything it had to offer.

But today, as awful as he still felt, it was just some pretty light on a tiny old house. He didn't want to understand anything. He wanted to be alone with his thoughts and make this whole childish mistake up to Dr. Kay.

When they entered the old cottage, Dr. Kayali asked if Carlos wanted to dinner, which Carlos politely declined and went to his room, where he would tear down the poster of Simone Chester winning a Nobel prize in science and throw out all of her books.

Over the next few years, Chester's "findings" would become wildly popular, inspiring organizations and companies all over the world like NASA to set up special satellite cameras and send out teams of notable scientists to deserts all across the globe. Conspiracy theorists would soon adopt Night Vale as the new Area 51, where secret government agencies would test new mind control experiments and breed new types of alien/human hybrid babies. When the grunge era got really big, and appealing to disenfranchised youths became the new trend, major t-shirt companies started making Night Vale inspired shirts with slogans like "I went to Night Vale and all I got was the sad, overwhelming realization that life is fleeting and my existence is meaningless" and "If the secret government agencies could read my mind, they'd know I hate you." Shows like the Y Documents would go on to make a season based on the lore of Night Vale, and eventually when the trend was nearing its end, three guys even decided to make a fictional podcast out of it, which seemed to resonate with a lot of people.

Chester would rarely do interviews after her findings were made public, and she would go on to retire from science altogether two years before she died at the age of 59. Her reputation was forever damaged after the federal government released a statement denying the existence of Night Vale, and many, like Dr. Kayali, would criticize her lack of evidence for years. Embarrassed by this, many scientific societies would take back the awards they'd given her. Chester's biographer is quoted as saying she died a broken woman, wishing she'd never found that horrifying town and all its mysteries. She'd never remember where the town was, or how she ended up in the desert in the first place, and that broken piece of her memory, that missing part of her would eventually destroy her.

Carlos, however, would grow up just as brilliant a scientist as everyone expected. He would go on to graduate the youngest and at the top of his class in high school, and then would go forward to graduate _summa cum laude_ at his foster mother's school, The University of What It Is. After finishing school, he was hired on at the University of What It Is as a professor of science and as an independent scientist, just as he always dreamed.

Though he had to admit, while he spent most of the Night Vale craze focused mainly on his research, there were moments, walking through grocery stores and shopping centers, when he'd see the name Night Vale on some conspiracy tabloid and feel a pulling in his gut. His feet would grow itchy and he'd want to leave, to chase the name, to ignore his foster mother's advice and be the one to find this mysterious urban legend in real life. There was no explaining it. You can't explain feelings, because they're just chemicals.

Carlos would always come back to his senses, of course, but there was something about the name that left him just a little more restless than when he'd walked in the store.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heeeeyyyyy... So this title might look a bit familiar. There's a reason for that! I lost my inspiration with the Fem!Cecilos fic a little while back, but I still wanted to tell the story so I went back to square one and made this fic a little more canon compliant. Cecil is Cecil and Carlos is Carlos. This version goes a little deeper into Carlos's back story. If it turns out Dr. Kayali's not actually somehow Carlos's family/we never get Carlos's backstory in the show, whatevs. What's done is done. Hope people like it. I'll eventually go back and do the Fem!Cecilos fic, and I'll eventually get started on chapter 2 of What Lies On The Other Side, but FOR NOW, enjoy this piece of work while I have the drive/time to do it!


	2. Lost & Found

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After decades of rumors, the existence of Night Vale is finally confirmed.

Carlos stood in his personal laboratory at the University of What It Is, preparing a syringe full of glowing green liquid. He quickly adjusted his goggles, ensuring that they were properly and safely positioned to block out any excess light.

Students sat on the edge of their seats, eager to see their professor perform his experiment.

"Pay close attention everyone," he urged. His hands were sweating inside the thick protective gloves, but at least they weren't shaking anymore. "This experiment could determine the future of medical science. One quick injection could mean one of two things: Perhaps a total rejuvenation of the immune system, or perhaps a slow, unimaginably painful death. But I'm really hoping it's the former. Let's see."

He had just aimed the syringe for the subject's exposed arm when he heard the bell ring.

"Dammit," Carlos muttered irritably, setting the syringe back down on the table. "Alright, students, I want a three page report based on the analysis we've collected so far, and your hypothesis on my desk by Monday. David, Ali, Jesus, don't forget to get together for your tutoring session this weekend!"

Students grabbed their things and rushed out the door, eager to begin their weekend of indulging in typical college student high jinks, such as attending parties, discussing theoretical physics in hip overpriced coffee shops, and crying drunkenly at 3 AM as they stare at their empty bank accounts and wonder how many internal organs they'd have to sell before they escaped their crushing student loan debt. Ah, to be young again.

Carlos untied Janitor Frank and thanked him for his kind contribution to the scientific community.

"Are you going to be okay with all those sedatives in your system, Frank?" Carlos asked, concerned. Frank was still empty behind the eyes, and he had a line of spittle running down his face.

Janitor Frank grinned weakly, his eyes crossing. "Don't you worry about me, kid. This isn't my first experiment." Then, he stumbled through the classroom door, dragging his dry mop behind him, and disappeared into the hallway.

Carlos shrugged and went to work putting his scientific tools back in their proper place, making sure to wash and disinfect them, and dispose of his gloves and face mask. He then tidied the classroom and double checked that all the Bunsen burners were properly switched off. Jessie had a terrible tendency for pyromania, and had already nearly burned the school down in three other labs. When that was done, Carlos went to wipe the chalkboard clean of his equations.

This time of the week was always a little... difficult. Any other school day, he could walk back to his apartment, prepare some lesson plans, grade papers, read, and go to bed; the same routine day in and day out. But Friday afternoons strayed from routine. There were two whole days in which he had to use something other than teaching to fill his time.

Sometimes he would go see a movie and eat dinner with a book he'd plucked from the school library. Sometimes he would take long walks on the trails around the university and collect new plant samples to study. Sometimes, when he was really bored and his next shipment of science journals were days away from being mailed to his apartment, he would agree to go on a date with one of his many admirers around town. These encounters were never really serious, and usually ended with either his date becoming so disillusioned by Carlos's scientific ramblings that they'd leave, or he'd spend a night in that stranger's bed and then sneak out while they were still asleep.

His life outside of work was quiet, simple, and tedious.

He liked it that way.

He was fine.

Things were fine.

He was... _fine_.

There was a knock at the door.

Carlos looked up from the board he'd been absentmindedly wiping for the past few minutes. Professor William Simmons, head of the chemistry department, was standing at the door, his polka dot bow tie unfastened, his thinning hair standing straight up. "Oh, hello Simmons. I didn't realize you were there."

Simmons grinned and shook his head, leaning against the door frame. "Carlos, has anyone ever told you that you spend way too much time in your head?"

"Only every teacher I've ever had," he replied, his cheeks warming. "Did that office fire from earlier ever get taken care of?"

Simmons strolled into the classroom and took a seat on the corner of the desk. "Oh yeah! We got that taken care of an hour ago. What I wanna know, however, is what you are doing tonight."

Carlos set the eraser down and ran his fingers through his messy black curls. "Not sure yet. Probably just going to go to watch some documentaries, order some food, and go to bed."

"Wrong!" Simmons said. "You're coming with me and some of the other professors to a symposium in town."

"A symposium?" Carlos asked. "What's it for?"

Simmons picked at a loose string on the sleeve of his lab coat. "These scientists that went missing a few years ago are doing a tour to promote their newest discovery. And letting people know that they're still alive."

"What did they discover?"

"Don't know yet. That's why we gotta go."

Carlos frowned. As much as he enjoyed learning about the newest breakthroughs in the scientific field, he'd never been much of what one would call a "people person". He was kind and considerate to his coworkers, sure, and he was always the first to compliment them on their fine work in their respective fields, but he didn't care to become too close to anyone else. Friends were nice, but friends were also distracting.

 _A scientist is self-reliant_ , Dr. Kayali had always told him, and she was right. Being a scientist, your life was work, and sacrifice, and logic. At the end of the day, you only had yourself and science. And that was all you needed.

"I don't know, Simmons," Carlos said.

"Oh come on!" Simmons replied. "When's the last time you had a drink with your coworkers?"

"I don't drink."

"Okay, fair enough, but when's the last time you went out with a group of people who share similar interests as you and had fun?"

_Science camp, the summer before middle school._

Carlos pursed his lips. Simmons wasn't making saying no very easy. "I don't want to intrude."

Simmons snorted. "Intrude? Carlos, you couldn't intrude if you tried. You're way too polite!"

That didn't make Carlos feel better though, so Simmons added, "Listen, man, you need to get out a little bit and try new things. You can't just be a scientist. You have to be a person, too. No offense, my guy, but you really shouldn't follow Kayali's example."

Carlos opened his mouth to protest that there was nothing wrong with Dr. Kayali and that she was a perfectly accomplished scientist, but Simmons put a hand up to silence him. "I just mean you shouldn't shut yourself off and keep your brain in science mode all the time. It's not good for your mental well-being."

He ran his fingers through the mess of curls again and tugged a fist full of hair. He had a good point, but Carlos was a scientist, through and through. He couldn't just turn that off. "Whether or not I agree with you, you're going to make me be social tonight, aren't you?"

"Now you're getting it."

Carlos sighed. "I was afraid of that.

"It's not exactly like you have anything else going on."

Carlos could dispute that, but what was the point? Simmons was right, and Carlos was a bad liar. "Okay, fine. I'll go, but only for the science. No uncomfortable small talk."

Simmons laughed. "Fair enough. Meet me at Rosalind's Diner at 8. And bring your nicest lab coat." He hopped off the desk and made his way to the door.

Before disappearing into the hallway, he turned around, grinning. "You're not gonna regret this, Carlos. I'm not sure why, but I got a feeling this is gonna be good for you." And then, he was gone.

 

*******

It was 7:59 PM. From across the street, Carlos could see Simmons and a couple other professors sitting in one of the booths of Rosalind's Diner. They were laughing and talking about something, maybe telling a story about a student or something their optometrist had said that one time.

Thirty seconds until he had to go into the diner.

The street light was still red. Carlos could feel his stomach churn. Did he know any funny stories? Was his fake laugh good enough to pass without being rude? Maybe he should've texted Simmons he wasn't feeling well, and cancelled the whole evening altogether. No, of course he couldn't do that. Even in text, he was a terrible liar. He'd made it this far. Might as well rip the bandage off.

Twenty seconds left.

The walk sign flipped on. Maybe he could try drinking tonight. Maybe he'd get so drunk, no one would bother talking to him. But then he'd miss this big scientific discovery Simmons had promised him, and that was the whole point of the evening. Besides, intoxication only impaired his ability to assess and analyze. What if something needed to be studied and he was so wasted he couldn't do it properly? He made his way forward.

Ten seconds.

_Breathe, Carlos. Breathe. You talk to these people at work every day. This is no different._

Five seconds.

He finished crossing the street and headed for the diner's entrance. 

Two seconds.

His hand gripped the bar and pulled.

_Breathe._

8 o'clock.

The bell on top of the door dinged, signaling his arrival.

Simmons looked up from his conversation and waved. "Carlos! You made it!"

_Breathe._

Carlos gave a weak smile and joined Simmons at the table. Up close, Carlos could identify each person present.

Sitting on the left side of the table was Dr. Matthew Heady from the geology department, Dr. Alicia Goodwin from the astrophysics department, and Dr. Kay Jan from the zoology department. On the right side sat Dr. Jamal Jackson from the biology department, and Dr. Denise Marshal from the physics department, with Simmons sitting beside her. The booth was full of eyes staring bewildered at Carlos, as if he had just sprouted a second nose.

"Um, good evening?" Carlos hadn't meant to phrase it like a question.

"Oh, hey Carlos. Um, Will didn't mention you'd be joining us?" Dr. Jackson asked. He was trying to make polite conversation, but his confusion was still audible.

Carlos could feel his face getting hot. Before he could answer, Simmons jumped up and pulled a chair from another empty table, urging him to sit.

"Wait, did I forget to tell you guys? Yeah, Carlos is coming with us."

"Yeah, you kinda left that detail out, Will," Dr. Marshal replied. There was something sharp about her tone, something closely resembling annoyance.

Dr. Goodwin tossed Marshal a dirty look. "Not that that's a bad thing! The more the merrier!"

Carlos wasn't so sure everyone was merrier for his company, but he stayed quiet and nodded.

Dr. Jan took a large gulp from their coffee and asked, "So where is this symposium supposed to be, anyway?" It was clear they were desperate to change the subject and get to the heart of the evening, which Carlos was very grateful for.

Simmons looked at his phone. "The invite said it's over at the Einstein Theater. I thought that place closed down a few years ago?"

"The Einstein Theater? Why would they hold a symposium at a theater, and not the convention center?" Dr. Jackson asked, stirring his own cup of coffee.

"Not just a theater, but a closed one at that," Dr. Heady added.

All good points.

Dr. Marshal scowled. "Simmons, I'm warning you right now if this is how you reveal to us you're actually a serial killer, I'm gonna kick your ass."

"Den, if I were going to kill you, don't you think I would have done it right after you disrupted my last project? You know, the one that could have gotten me grants and awards?"

Dr. Marshal crossed her arms. "How many times do I have to tell you, Simmons? Not everyone can read your mind! If you're doing an experiment, put a fucking 'do not disturb' sign on the door, like Kayali recommended the time before that."

"Alright, y'all, as much as I enjoy hearing the same argument being rehashed for the thirtieth time," Dr. Jackson interjected, "I really think we should talk about this symposium some more. Will, who sent you that invite?"

Simmons checked his phone again. "I got an email from some Dr. Henry Colt saying that he had an exciting announcement to make, and he wanted me to invite as many different scientists in as many different fields as I can to witness it."

Dr. Jan nearly choked on their sip of coffee. "Wait, Henry Colt?! The Dr. Henry Colt that went missing a few years ago? Wasn't he a professor at the school at one point?"

Carlos had basically grown up in the university, and had met every staff member hired within the past few decades. Nowhere could he place a Dr. Colt in the alphabetized list of names he kept in his head. 

"Yeah, but that was a long time ago, well before Kayali was even the headmistress. I'd never even met the guy before, let alone give him my email address, but he said he heard from an old colleague that I had taken over the role as head of the chemistry department and wanted to extend a personal invitation to his big event, from one chemist to another."

"That still doesn't explain why it's being held at a theater though," Carlos pointed out, and everyone jumped. They'd all forgotten he was there.

 Simmons frowned. "No, it doesn't. But hey, couldn't hurt to go find out, right?"

"Unless you've actually been talking to a wacko this whole time. Then I'm sure we'll have a pretty good chance of being hurt." Dr. Marshal cast him a dirty look.

The tension was getting heavy, and frustration was creeping into Simmons' face.

"Dr. Marshal, um, if you're worried, you don't have to go. I wouldn't fault you if you backed out." Carlos had meant to sound reassuring and patient, but when he heard the way the words had come out, he recoiled. Something in his tone had an air of condescension.

Dr. Marshal glared at Carlos. "I'm not worried about anything. In fact, I'm excited to go. I can't think of any other fucking thing I'd rather be doing on a Friday night than going into an abandoned theater to listen to some old guy talk about science. I'm so excited I'm ready to leave right fucking now actually. If you'll excuse me." She nudged Simmons out of the way and escaped the booth. She handed a five to the guy behind the counter with a sharp "keep the change" and exited the restaurant.

Dr. Goodwin looked out the window, watching her walk down the street, and rushed after her, apologizing quickly before leaving the restaurant.

Simmons sighed and followed after the two of them, promising Carlos that he'd talk to her. Simmons slipped the guy at the counter a five and jogged out of the diner and down the street to catch up to them.

"I really didn't mean to offend her," Carlos mumbled, his face hot. He knew this was a bad idea. "It came out wrong. I said it wrong. I need to apologize. I--"

"Carlos, it's cool," Dr. Jan offered sympathetically. "We know you didn't mean anything malicious. Besides, Denise is a hot head. She's always doing stuff like this. She'll get over it."

There was a pause, in which everyone sitting at the table sipped their coffees and tried to make weak conversation, but it was no use.

"Guess we should get a move on, eh?" Dr. Heady said, checking his watch.

"Yeah, we don't want to be late," Dr. Jackson agreed.

One by one, the table emptied until only Carlos was left. He promised he'd be there in a minute, but honestly, at this point there was no guarantee. Things had gone from bad to worse in only ten minutes, and he'd completely embarrassed himself in front of his colleagues. This was why he didn't talk to people. This was why he didn't have friends.

He could text Simmons that he wasn't feeling well. That he'd somehow contracted an evolved strain of the Bubonic Plague from accidentally touching an old piece of gum under the table.

He could fake an emergency. That his dog had accidentally set fire to his apartment. He didn't have a dog, but he was fairly certain Simmons didn't know that.

Or maybe he could just go home. Pretend nothing happened. He could put his phone on silent, stay in bed until Monday, and then feign ignorance when his coworkers brought it up. _What? Me? No, you must be mistaken. That couldn't have been me. I didn't go anywhere Friday night. I stayed home all weekend. Memory is so faulty, you know._

He wanted so much to be a coward, to run away and hide until things blew over. But that's not what a scientist does. A scientist starts an experiment, and they always see it through.

So, although he would rather get hit by the nearest smart car than face his colleagues again, he got up from the chair and left the diner, wishing the guy behind the counter a better night than he was having.

He walked down the street, his hands in the pockets of his lab coat, trying to think of ways he could apologize. He could see the group ahead, all gathered in front of Potter's Plant Nursery. He could also, unfortunately, hear what they were saying.

"Denise, he really didn't mean it that way."

"Oh fuck off, Will, you know exactly what he meant."

"What's your deal? Ever since he showed up, you've been a total sour puss. He's never been anything but nice to you."

"My deal is that out of all the other teachers you could invite to hang out with us, _you chose Kayali's lap dog._ "

"Don't call him that!"

"Why not? You ever wonder why he graduated at the top of his class? Or why he's the head of the science wing, despite having never applied for the position? Or why he doesn't have to pick a specific scientific field? It's because his foster mommy's the headmistress of the school. All those awards in his office? Foster mommy gave him those. She's got him so fucking trained _he can't even call us by our first names_!"

"It's not like that. Look, I'm not her biggest fan either, but Carlos is different. Sure, he's a little quiet and his head is stuck at work most of the time, but he's a good guy. He wouldn't hurt anyone."

"Bullshit. It's exactly like that. Why else would he pick the office farthest from all of ours, just like her? Why else would he refuse to talk to anybody outside of work, just like her? He is Kayali's kid, through and through, and I'll bet anything he's the one who's been sneaking around telling her about our unapproved extracurricular experiments."

"What?! Denise, the only reason our experiments keep getting shut down is because you keep opening your big mouth."

Carlos cleared his throat, and everyone turned, the color draining from their faces. Denise's scowl dropped and Carlos could see panic in her eyes.

"Carlos," ~~Dr. Marshal~~ Denise sputtered. "Carlos, you weren't supposed to... I mean..."

So this was what his coworkers really thought of him? That he'd only become a scientist because his foster mother had handed him the job? That he hadn't spent countless nights, studying from text books larger than himself, reading until his eyes hurt, drawing equations and inventing machines that could assist in experiments. He had been handed the opportunities and paraded himself like a champion horse, adorned with roses and seeking the envy of the other teachers.

He was a lap dog. A stupid spoiled pet. Not a _real_ scientist.

He really ought to be angry, but he wasn't. Instead, he was calm.

"Dr. Marsh-- _Denise_. I'm sorry your experiments are being shut down by Dr. Kayali. I don't know what it is you're doing, and I don't know why they wouldn't receive her approval, but I'm sorry nonetheless. I'm sorry you don't think you can trust me, because you believe that my foster mother has some sort of evil plan and I'm only here for nefarious reasons. I'm sorry you don't like me, and you don't believe I've truly earned my position at the university. I'm sorry I sounded rude at the diner. I'm sorry for everything you believe about me, whether it's true or not. I really am. But whether or not you like or trust me is not my biggest concern, to be fairly honest. I don't think I'm better than anyone I work with. I am just a scientist, and I came to hear this big scientific announcement because Simmo--because _Will_ invited me. Nothing more, nothing less. I hope you can understand that."

Simmons tried to sputter an apology, but Carlos put a hand up.

"It's fine," he said. Carlos wasn't sure if it was actually fine, but that seemed like a problem for when he was alone with his thoughts. "Now, I'm going to hurry over to the theater before we're late." He breezed past the other teachers, his pulse racing.

Carlos could hear Denise mutter to Alicia as he passed, "Told you he was just like Kayali."

The walk over to the Einstein Theater was... _tense_.

Simmons was walking next to Carlos apologizing profusely. _Denise didn't know what she was talking about. She was just jealous. She was a hot head. The experiments were nothing. This and that. This and that._

The other scientists walked slowly behind them, keeping their distance. Carlos knew relations with his colleagues had been made strained by his confrontation with Denise, and thought that perhaps he should have pretended not to hear her. Was awkward silence better than insincere friendliness? Or, in Denise's case, insincere tolerance? Was living in complete denial better than facing the truth head on?

Carlos didn't have time to care. He didn't have the emotional capacity. He just wanted to get this symposium over with and go back to his apartment, where he'd spend the rest of the weekend, alone. 

The theater was dark when they approached, just like it had been for the past few years.

"Shouldn't there be a light on, at least?" Alicia asked.

Jamal peered into the box office window. It was empty and caked with dust. "You sure you read the email right, Will? Doesn't look like anybody's here."

At that moment, the front door to the theater swung wide open and a wild eyed, balding man in a dirty lab coat leaned out. "Can I help you?"

Everyone instinctively recoiled, but Simmons cleared his throat and replied, "Yes, hi, um, we're here for the symposium. A Dr. Colt invited us?"

There was a beat in which the balding man in the dirty lab processed what Simmons had said, and then he cracked a large toothy grin. "Oh! Oh yes! You're from the University of What It Is! Please, please come in!" He stepped out of the way, propping the door open to allow the scientists to enter.

Everyone, including Carlos, tossed Will an anxious look, but they proceeded into the theater anyway, passing the man in the dirty lab coat with a polite nod.

Carlos was the last to enter, and the man stopped him. His face was screwed up in confusion. "Sorry. Do I know you from somewhere?"

Carlos frowned. Close up, there was something about his features that looked familiar, but he couldn't place his finger on it. "I don't believe so."

The man examined his face a few seconds longer, then shrugged. "Oh well. Guess you just have one of those faces. Please, come in."

Carlos continued into the theater, and a rush of nostalgia (as well as the smell of mold) hit.

The carpet was still black with white equations scribbled into it. The old Laws of Motion pinball machine was still in the corner, around the concessions stand, its lights long since blown out and its upbeat 8-bit music long since silenced. He had begged Dr. Kayali for so many quarters in his two year quest to beat Fred O'Malley's high score, and eventually, she would relent, albeit exasperatedly, to retain some sort of peace.

This theater was where he'd participated as the hologram ghost of Copernicus in his high school production of _Galileo!_ He still fondly remembered the climactic scene in which the famous astronomer burst free from his chains to have a dramatic sword fight with the Pope on top of a church as flames ravaged the city below. He remembered cheering with the crowd from the side of the stage as he watched James Darwin as Galileo drenched in fake blood defeat his captors and declare to the world that Copernicus was totally right about heliocentrism, and the Earth really did revolve around the sun. The closing dance number had made the paper the next day, and Carlos had been so proud.

The theater had looked so new and shiny back then, so full of life. Now, it was just a dusty old relic of a time long passed.

The old man in the dirty lab coat hobbled past them and down the dim hallway. "Right this way!"

Simmons asked as they followed, "Where is everyone?"

The old man waved the question off. "Everyone is in the auditorium. The symposium is about to begin."

Carlos shivered. It was cold in the theater, which seemed odd, because there was no hum of an air conditioner anywhere in the building, no cool air coming from any vents that he could detect.

When the old man finally pushed open the door to the main auditorium, they found it was empty.

Or, no. Not _completely_ empty.

Sitting on the stage were four folding chairs in front of a large white projector screen dangling from the ceiling. Sitting on three of the four chairs were three older men, all in dirty lab coats identical to the man who had let them in. Closer to the front row were Dr. James Horne the sociology professor, Dr. Tina Lipnicki the psychology professor, and Dr. Cate Gusworthy the anthropology professor from the university. They waved the group down and Carlos hesitantly followed.

All of the other seats in the large auditorium were empty.

"Oh dear," Simmons muttered gravely. "Not as packed a house as I thought it would be."

That was an understatement.

When everyone had found their own plush red seat to settle in, the old man who had let them in rushed onto the stage to take his chair next to the others underneath the large projector screen.

A frail gentleman with a bushy gray mustache and an askew bow tie stood and gave a signal to someone in the booth above. A beam of light shot forward and illuminated the blank screen. He smiled at the minuscule crowd. "Good evening, professors of the University of What It Is!"

The group murmured back hello's.

"My name is Dr. Henry Colt. I suspect you'll all be wondering why you were invited here, and what this silly little seminar is about?"

No one replied. They didn't have to.

The projector shot forth another beam of light, displaying a picture of the once-notable scientist, Dr. Simone Chester. Carlos's stomach ached at the sight of her face, going over memories of nights spent reading her books under the blanket in his childhood bedroom by flashlight, idolizing her to the point that he gleefully waited four hours in line at the university book shop when he was eight to get a copy of her newest book _Hidden Creatures in the North Atlantic_ and a signed poster.

"Many of you will be familiar with Dr. Chester's enormous body of work, as well as the infamy she has attained over the past decade or so over the publishing of one particular finding."

The slide changed.

Carlos felt his heart drop.

On the screen was a photo copy of the short essay Timmy Thompson had stolen from his aunt to read to everyone back in middle school. In big bold print at the top, it was titled **Night Vale: A Society Without Logic**.

"For years now, teams of researchers and conspiracy theorists alike have traveled the globe to find the mysterious and allegedly hidden town of Night Vale, where Dr. Chester reports that our basic laws of physics are obsolete and that which is mundane is horrifying. It's become a sort of new age _Atlantis_ story in the popular culture, as I understand it."

A few professors chuckled politely, but Carlos sat silent.

_Night Vale._

Something about that name had always had an effect on him. He'd spent years trying to avoid the phenomenon, changing the channel when stories popped up in the news, wearing headphones and busying himself with reports when coworkers and classmates tried to bring it up, steering clear of the science fiction section in book stores. But like any unpleasant topic one tried their hardest to avoid, Carlos found there would always be that rare moment when Night Vale would evade his blinders, slink past the walls he built around himself, and he'd be left shaking and restless, wanting to run, wanting to find... _something_.

Maybe the childhood fascination had never dissipated and these feelings were just his natural scientific curiosity bleeding through logic? Perhaps.

Or maybe it was just a side effect of being cooped up in one university all day, every day; never exploring the way a young man would after graduation, never truly finding himself the way all those self-help books and psychiatric phone line operators told him he should.

In any case, the story of Night Vale had managed to, once again, slide past his defenses and he could already feel the effects starting to take hold.

"My team and I," and here Dr. Colt gestured to the three other men sitting down, "had volunteered to go in search of this urban legend three and a half years ago"

The scientist at the far right of the group jumped in his seat. "THREE YEARS?! BUT IT WAS ONLY A WEEK THAT WE WERE--!"

Dr. Colt replied, "Yes, Dr. Hartford. We've already been over this. Time moves differently there."

Two of the other scientists pulled Dr. Hartford back into his seat, but Carlos could still see the shock and disbelief in his eyes. Time distortion had been the first oddity Dr. Chester had mentioned in her report.

Dr. Colt continued. "We all volunteered to go searching for the town of Night Vale as our final field study before we retired. We figured at worst, we'd find nothing and would go off to enjoy a nice vacation in the Gulf of Mexico. At best, we'd finally determine once and for all that this old urban legend was real and we'd finally redeem the legacy of our colleague, Simone."

The slide changed again.

The room went completely silent.

Carlos could hardly breathe.

"Well, everyone, we're here to bring you some good news!"

There on the projector screen was a photo of a large, faded road sign that read:

**Welcome to Night Vale**

**Population: Classified**

**Days since anyone died: ~~2~~ 0 ~~  
~~**

**Good luck!**

Just beyond the sign, in the background, one could see the hazy silhouette of a town in the middle of a desert at dusk.

 _It could be fake,_ Carlos told himself. _They could have made that sign themselves._

The slide changed again, this time showing a picture of a man with eight eyes staring directly into the camera from the edge of a street corner.

_It could be a doctored image. Any 13 year old with a computer could have altered that with some simple editing software._

The slide changed again. It was a photo of a dark blue van with no windows parked outside of a perfectly normal house. One could just barely make out two masked figures sitting in the van, taking photos of the photographer from behind the tinted glass.

 _Okay,_ Carlos admitted, _that's a little weird, but maybe not truly out of the ordinary?_

The slide changed. This time, it was a short video of people running down a street, the camera jostling in their hand as they move. There was screaming and panting from the cameraman. A few seconds before it ends, the camera is turned over the person's shoulder and it's revealed that a creature not dissimilar from a wolf, but bearing eight eyes and an additional four hairy legs is chasing them. The video stops as the creature opens its maw to roar, and Carlos can spot three rows of impossibly sharp, blood stained teeth.

A few professors gasp and cover their mouths. Others sit watching in horror, too stunned to move or say anything.

The slide changed again. It was a photo taken in the middle of the night of a ring of robe wearing individuals wearing crowns of unidentifiable meats around a fire, their arms up in Y position, their blank faces pointed toward the dark sky, presumably to wail or chant something. Behind the ring of meat wearers was a circle of children, no younger than eight. They were all clasping hands and wearing what appeared to be scout uniforms, which Carlos would have found a bit odd were he not distracted by the cultists wearing meat crowns.

"We'd accidentally discovered a scout jamboree out in the scrub lands," Dr. Colt said gravely. "I don't think I'll ever forget the look on that first sacrificial victim's face."

The slide changed again, but unlike the other pictures, this one was distorted and it looked almost burned.

Dr. Colt explained, "This photo was supposed to be of a hooded figure levitating precisely six inches off the ground near a popular local Italian restaurant. Unfortunately, right after we took this, Dr. Hartford's camera spontaneously combusted and this new roll of film was pretty much destroyed. You can still make out the edges, see the shrubbery around Sammy's Ultimate Sliceria and part of the parking lot, though the hooded figure's presence has been wiped out completely."

The slide changed. It was a large circle of perfectly rounded blood stones, glinting in the candle light around them. The rest of the room seemed fairly normal in decoration.

"We noticed in our short stay that the locals had a number of odd and somewhat grotesque rituals that they would perform in their day-to-day lives to pair with their... _unorthodox_ religions. Some would spill blood on golden alters. Some would burn sage and speak in tongues. But the most common practice of the Night Vale citizen is a mandatory prayer session in a circle of blood stones, as pictured above. We questioned roughly thirty of those indigenous to the town, and yet, no one could provide a coherent answer. They claimed it was just something they had to do, something they had always done."

The slide changed. It was a photo of a collection of several small mounds of dirt in individual trays labeling where they were taken.

"We obtained soil samples from various locations around the town of Night Vale, including city hall, the bowling alley, the radio station, the scrub lands, and the nearby canyon. We ran some tests and these pieces of soil all came back with unnaturally high radiation levels. There were particles of elements yet to be discovered by science."

Carlos could feel Simmons fidget in the seat next to him.

It was a universal fact that geologists and chemists didn't typically work well together, and everyone in the science wing of the university knew well enough about Simmons and Heady's "past", but Carlos could tell Simmons was ready to get his hands on one of those samples and get to work. He could see the hunger in his eyes. He knew that hunger all too well.

Carlos needed to be in a lab. Or no, he didn't need to be in a lab so much as he needed to be working. He needed to figure things out. He needed... _Science._

The slide changed for the last time, and unlike the others, it wasn't a photo or a video. It was a sound file.

Loud static played over the speakers, and Carlos had to hold his hands to his ears. His vision blurred for just a moment, and his head started spinning. He could feel Simmons trying to touch his arm, but he quickly pulled away.

There was too much noise.

Too much stimulation.

_Too much everything._

Eventually, the static faded out and Carlos heard the muffled sound of a voice. He lowered his hands cautiously, his head still swimming. The person in the booth upstairs had lowered the volume and cleaned up the audio so only the voice played.

Carlos sat in awe. Scientifically speaking, it was the most beautiful voice he'd ever heard.

It was deep, like... Like thunder? No, that wasn't right. Thunder was loud and booming. This was more of a soft, gentle rumbling into a microphone.

That aching in his stomach, the restlessness, the heart palpitations, the shortness of breath, the overstimulation... It all dissipated.

The world was quiet, save for the voice, which was lulling Carlos's severely overworked brain into a warm sense of calm.

He could just barely make out the muffled words of Dr. Colt from the front of the auditorium explaining how the daily news would be full of strange reports of alien abductions, new Orwellian legislation keeping citizens under the city council's control, Lovecraftian horrors emerging from holes in walls to devour residents while they slept, blah blah blah.

Carlos should be paying attention. A good scientist always pays attention to the data presented to them, and he liked to think he was a good scientist!

But how _could_ he? How could _anyone else_ pay attention when there was a voice out there that was able to affect his brain, his body this way?!

He was full. He was empty. He was emotional. He was peaceful. He felt so things at once, and he could swear that voice was speaking directly to him when it said goodnight.

And all too soon, the recording was cut off. The projector shut down, and Carlos was left feeling hollow in his seat. The magic was gone, and so was the voice.

"Hey," Simmons whispered. "You okay?"

Was he? "I'm... fine? Just... The static."

Simmons nodded sympathetically.

From the front of the room, Dr. Colt dabbed at his sweaty forehead with an old fast food napkin he'd pulled from his pocket. "So now that we've shown you the evidence we've collected so far, we return to the question I'm sure you're all wondering. What are you, a bunch of college professors, doing sitting in an old closed down theater on a Friday night listening to a couple old codgers recount their experience in a town the world believes to be made up?"

No one spoke.

"The answer is quite simple, professors, I assure you. Like Dr. Chester before us, we stumbled upon the town of Night Vale completely by accident. There were no road maps, no guides, no anything to help us get there. We don't know how we got in, and we're still fuzzy on how we got out. Like many of you, we questioned Dr. Chester's findings for a long time. We scoffed at first, believing her to be either mad or a fantastic fiction writer. But now that we've gotten a look at the things she saw in her time there, professors, we have no shame in admitting that we were wrong. We were so unbelievably wrong.

"The world is full of many fantastical and impossible things. Our jobs as scientists is to study those fantastical things and make them seem less impossible. Dr. Chester was limited in her resources, but she tried her best to at least describe in great detail the things she had seen. And because the world could not understand what she had gone through, she was shunned, stripped of her reputation, and died a broken woman. This is where I'd like you all to come in. Having once worked for the University of What It Is, I know that you have access to the best scientific resources in the country, and if anyone could help us figure this mysterious town out, it would be you.

"I reached out to Dr. William Simmons of the chemistry department, after I learned he had inherited my old job, and invited as many of his colleague's to this seminar tonight because the truth needs to be known, but it also has to be understood. Ever since we escaped the town of Night Vale, we've been traveling the country to try and recruit younger, more capable scientists to study what we brought back, and we've been turned away and laughed at at every turn. Most convention centers won't let us speak because the owners think we're quacks, so we've resorted to old dusty theaters like this one, so long as we keep the audience small. We come here tonight, not only to share what we've seen, but to ask you for help. You're all perfectly within your own rights to say no, and I honestly can't say I'd blame you for being incredulous. We certainly were."

Carlos watched Denise and Alicia shake their heads. Looked like they were out.

Kay and Jamal looked like they were on the fence.

The sociology, psychology, and anthropology professors were more focused on feverishly whispering about whether or not these men were all there to really care about the mystery.

Carlos... Well, Carlos wasn't sure what exactly he felt at that moment.

There was evidence that Night Vale existed. There were soil samples. There was that voice!

His hero had been right all these years. She had been telling the truth, and not only that, she had been wronged by the scientific community for doing so. All this time, he'd turned his back on her, when in fact, she'd seen the very things he himself had just witnessed on the projector.

He had been wrong. The world had been wrong.

_Dr. Kayali had been wrong._

That probably stung the worst.

Dr. Colt introduced a Q&A segment for the last 15 minutes of the seminar, but Carlos was too deep in his thoughts to participate.

He needed time to think. He needed to be alone. He needed to be alone and consider things.

He was also too deep in thought to notice Dr. Hartford staring at him from the stage, his wild eyes studying his face until the seminar came to an end. Dr. Colt thanked the professors immensely for hearing them out, and passed out cards with each scientist's contact information if they wanted to discuss anything in the next few days while they were in town. Carlos took the four cards and stuck them in his breast pocket where they'd be safe.

That night, after ditching his colleagues so he could walk home by himself and texting goodnight and thanks to Simmons, he lay in bed with his thoughts swirling. The world felt so different now. He felt different now.

And that night as he slept, he dreamed of hot deserts, vicious nightmarish looking creatures, and a beautiful voice coming from his bedside radio.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a lazy, depressed piece of shit, but your kudos gave me just enough inspiration to complete chapter 2, so thanks for that! Hope y'all like it! Chapter 3 should be out soon*!
> 
> *Like I said, I'm a lazy, depressed piece of shit, but 2018 is going to be the year I worker harder to be better, so instead of some vague "soon", I'm gonna say it'll be up by at least mid-March. Gonna try, at the very least.


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